


The Quarter-life Crisis Club

by StarryClouds



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: A+ for effort though, Age Regression/De-Aging, Awkward Parenting, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-07-01 05:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryClouds/pseuds/StarryClouds
Summary: There was a tiny dark-haired kid sitting among the glass, buried under the red costume which a literal minute ago stuck to his very-grown-up-body like second skin. His big blue eyes peered at you in dazed confusion, before they clouded over and he dropped unconscious.You stared at him for a while from your position against the wall, before lowering the pocket knife, and cursing whatever almighty deity in charge of fate was currently having the time of their life."Only in fucking Gotham."In which Red Robin manages to metaphorically and literally crash right into your life, pulling you into a temporary life crisis, a mission to find a crime-fighting bat, and a one week crash course in domestic parenting.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Tim Drake/Reader!
> 
> I noticed that there was a large lack of Red Robin X Reader fictions, and I've been having a growing interest in the moonchild that is Tim Drake, so I decided to write this.
> 
> As I was doing the story, I realised that a lot of the elements were quite similar to some other 'Age-regression' fictions, so I'm really sorry if it seems like I've been copying other works. I promise it wasn't intentional.
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

> * * *
> 
> A **quarter-life crisis** is a period of life ranging from twenties to thirties, in which a person begins to feel doubtful about their own lives due to stress associated with the transition to adulthood. _\- Wikipedia_
> 
> * * *

In all honesty, the whole thing only happened because you were a total suck-up.

Because really, _maybe_ if you had just made some believable excuse like _"I have a dinner engagement with friends"_ or _"I have a date"_ , then you wouldn't have been dragged into this whole mess (ok so maybe that second excuse wasn't exactly the most believable, but the point still stood). But because you really wanted that promotion and that extra raise, you landed yourself in working an extra couple of hours to try and please your boss. At least it gained you a place in her good books, judging from the praises of your "wonderful determination" and "brilliant work ethic" that reached your ears as she put on her coat and opened the door.

"Don't stay too late!" She called out to you.

"I won't! Don't worry, you just go have a great anniversary dinner," you gave her a smile, hoping that the pain of exhaustion underneath was hidden well enough to make the expression look sincere.

You watched as she walked away, before wiping the aching smile off your face. You let out a groan and rubbed your eyes, taking a peek at the ticking clock on the wall and starting on the paperwork and tasks left in your hands.

Two hours painstakingly passed by, and during that time you managed to down four cups of coffee as you swore at the leaking pens, then the faulty water dispenser, and then the jammed photocopier. You were stuck at work whilst your co-workers were out doing whatever people with a life really did on a Friday evening, probably at a nightclub partying with friends or staying at home with their significant other and children. It wasn't like you had that waiting for you back in your tiny home, but lying on your sofa watching Gordon Ramsay screaming at everyone and everything on TV whilst eating takeaway was infinite times better than filling numbers on stupid paper.

"I better get a goddamn amazing raise after this," you muttered as you finally finished the last forms and stacked it into the folders. "And a vacation."

When the second hand finally hit nine on the clock, you sank back into your chair and let out a relieved sigh. You were absolutely exhausted, and you couldn't wait to get home. It only took a few minutes to tidy your desk and put everything into your bag, before wrapping yourself up into your coat and walking out of the office. You gave a soft goodbye to the receptionist (who looked like she was running purely on caffeine) and stepped out into the chilly night.

It was already dark outside as you walked along the pavement, and for a minute you regretted parking so far away from your workplace. But it was always packed in the official car park, and you never really had the time to wait in the long queue as angry drivers honked at others to quickly park and let them through.

Maybe the whole thing only happened because you didn't have the effort to fight for a parking spot. Or because you decided not to check the news for any special supervillain attacks on the city.

Regardless, all you knew was that some higher being in the universe had decided that you would walk right into a fight against what looked like a floating magician holding a huge and fancy glowing staff.

You were too shocked to let out a scream as some sort of energy shot from the orb of the staff and incinerated a trash can a few feet away, but your legs had the decency to quickly scramble back and press your body into the shadows. The "magician" didn't seem to be aiming at you, in fact, they didn't even seem to have noticed your presence. Instead they were focusing on a figure in red doing acrobats around the rays. Their black cape trailed around them as they expertly dodged whatever the magician shot at them.

You didn't focus on that however. Instead you put your attention to getting the hell out of there, but the hiding place which you had scrambled into practically trapped you in the fight. If you wanted to escape, you would have to try and go into the open and silently go past the two fighters. And you were definitely not going to risk getting hit with whatever that staff was shooting out.

You fingered the pocket knife in your bag, as if trying to suck up any courage from it. It gave you a little comfort, but hardly did anything to stop the panic nearly drowning you whole. The magician was still focused on the red and black clothed figure, who was now shouting for backup at who knew what, whilst constantly tapping on something on his wrist.

He was a vigilante, you realised, as he stopped for a millisecond to get out his bo staff and made you catch sight of the black cowl covering half his face. One of the unofficial justice bringers who patrolled Gotham at night and stopped crime. There were always new ones these days, most of them inspired by the Batman to join the vigilante life, but they always died just as soon as they started. Naive innocent victims who thought that they could join and survive the thrilling life of a superhero, be as powerful and famous as Superman and Wonder Woman. It hardly ended well, of course.

You remembered a year ago when you were casually flipping through a newspaper on your break, and caught sight of a tiny column near the very back (hardly a few paragraphs) talking about how another superhero-wannabe had been found dead in a dumpster. Froth in his mouth, veins popping out in his neck, fear gas still coursing through his system. A boy hardly out of his adolescent years, who thought it would be great to adorn himself in a homemade costume, and go headlong into the horrors of the Gotham night. You had idly recognised the poor boy as a classmate from high school, bringing forth fuzzy memories of a quiet, meek boy who sat near the window in biology and ate his lunch in the computer rooms. He never broke any rules, always got good grades, and never talked back. But he also never did anything memorable during those days, and as far as you knew he was just another uninteresting average boy whom you would hardly give a second thought about after graduation. And all you felt as you let out a tut and went back to work was the five minute sympathy that a stranger would feel whenever they saw a something tragic on the news, one that would disappear as soon as it had come and would hardly affect you for the rest of the day.

But this person had obviously been in the fighting business for quite a while, and despite the cowl covering his head, he looked like he was in his early twenties like you, so he must have started when he was in his teens. He was obviously one of those elite vigilantes who actually had the respect and trust of the Gotham citizens. In fact, you didn't know how 'elite' he even was until you saw him throw some bat-shaped projectiles at his opponent and recognised the bird-like clasp adorning his chest.

 _Oh God_ , you screamed internally. This wasn't just some normal vigilante who beat up regular criminals. This was Red Robin, well known respected ally of the Batman. He wasn't just 'elite', he was one of the most famous in Gotham. And everyone knew that whenever a partner of Batman was around, an A-list villain would be nearby, maybe B-list if it was a good day.

_'That's it, I'm gonna die'_

You shrunk further into the shadows, tightening your grip on your knife. The best plan was to wait until the fight was over, then run the hell away until you could run no more. Red Robin would finish the job quick, would use his awesome batman skills to take down his opponents like a member of the bat clan would also do. And then you would sigh in relief, go home and cry about how precious life was, file away the story of having a front row seat at a magic vigilante fight for an interesting night at the bar. And life would go on as normal. Just _please_ let it go back to normal.

Red Robin's staff was shooting out electric sparks as he expertly swiped it at the magician. But each electric shock was blocked by magic from the magician's staff, glowing purple energy clashing with bright blue. He was getting weaker every second, with each hit which made contact with his body.

"Alright," drawled the magician's feminine voice. "It was fun at first, but now it's just getting boring. Let's just end this."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," grunted Red Robin as he flipped over a ray of magic energy. But just as he finished his sentence, the magician raised the staff and backhanded the vigilante backwards. You slapped a hand to your mouth to muffle the shout threatening to burst from your lips as you saw Red Robin fly backwards and crumple to the ground, only a few feet.

Your heart was beating faster and faster, silently begging him to get up. His limbs were shaking as he pulled himself to his knees, his teeth gritted in effort. He managed to punch something on the gauntlet on his wrist as he let out a grunt.

"Red Robin to Batman, can you hear me? I need backup, repeat I need backup." His voice was very slightly shaking, and all you could do was stay frozen as you watched him calling out to different people, ordering... no... _begging_ for help.

"Shit," Red Robin cursed as he quickly shot some batarangs at the being who was slowly, almost playfully making her way to the boy, like a predator wanting to see their prey squirm in terror for a little bit longer.

"Red Robin to Batman, Oracle, Robin... shit, even Red Hood. Just answer me, _please_."

He was giving up, you realised, accepting his defeat. His voice was cracking more audibly as he kept asking for backup, head bowed down, cowl preventing you from seeing the terror in his eyes.

"Spoiler, Batgirl, Robin... Bruce... _Bruce._ "

"No," you whispered. "Get up, get up. You need to get up, please!"

"How disappointing, the partner of Batman lying shaking like a little child," crooned the magician. "I almost feel bad... maybe I'll spare you from death."

She approached the hunched vigilante, feet hovering barely a centimetre from the ground.

"Yes," she breathed. Her back was facing you so all you could see was her fiery hair writhing around her head like snakes. But you could almost picture pale lips twisting into a snarl as she stared down at Red Robin. "I won't kill you, that's too boring. Instead I'll give you something more... _exciting_."

Red Robin gritted his teeth and tried to stand up, but as soon as he even attempted to, the magician struck him back down with her staff. He looked so broken, so vulnerable, as he lay there on the ground at the feet of a powerful being. You were nearly on the verge of a panic attack, begging him to get up.

"Get up, get up, get up. Just please, you can do this. Please just get up, get up..."

You didn't think he could hear you. You were whispering the words "get up, get up" so quietly you thought it would be impossible. But right in that moment, Red Robin slightly lifted his head, looking behind the magician, beyond the shadows, directly where you were hiding, as if he could sense your presence quietly chanting useless words of encouragement. You were hidden well in the dark, you knew that, but he was unmistakeably staring right at you, right into your eyes. He had heard you. He knew you were there. You were sure of it.

"Get up," you tried again, determination this time seeping into your voice. You kept the intense eye contact with the vigilante, not once blinking. "Get up."

And then he was getting up. Red Robin was slowly pulling himself to his elbows, pain shaking his limbs. But there was determination, new found strength fuelling him as he pulled himself up further up to his knees. The magician was still watching him in a relaxed state, twirling her staff around in a patronising, mocking manner. She made no move to strike down the boy again, just lazily watching.

"You still have some fight left in you, huh?" She hissed, saturated sweetness lacing her voice like poison. "How annoying, little pest."

And then she was raising the staff, the red ruby jewel glowing ominously at Red Robin. Your breathing quickened and your spine froze straight as a rod. You couldn't look away, couldn't look away from the sight of the vulnerable vigilante, the dark witch, the glowing staff. It was the end of him, you were certain.

But Red Robin didn't even seem to notice the ruby staff glowing with dark energy and focused directly at him. He was still looking right at you, breathing laboured, limbs barely holding himself up. And you kept looking at him, staring into the white lenses of the cowl, imagining restricted hot tears in his eyes blurring his vision, but not blurring the image of you shrunk as far into yourself as possible.

You were still staring at him when the ruby finally released the pent up dark energy into one surge, striking Red Robin directly into his chest. You were still staring as he flew back almost in slow motion, purple lines of energy slithering from the tip of the staff and spreading all the way around his body. You were still staring as he crashed right through an old abandoned studio, shattering glass cutting through the night air as he finally disappeared from your view.

The witch rolled her neck lazily, before twirling her staff again. "Let's see how you handle this special surprise, little bird."

And with that, her staff glowed again and she disappeared in a blinding purple light.

It took a couple of long minutes after her exit for you to snap out of your shock. You shakily looked down at your trembling hands, numb against the chilly night air and slightly bleeding from the nail marks cut in your palm. You also noticed the hot tears staining your cheeks, your eyes raw and aching. With all the strength you could muster, you tightened your grip on your pocket knife and painstakingly crawled out of the shadows. Every inch made you feel even more drained, but you had to see what happened to _him_ , you had to. You couldn't just leave him there.

It took what felt like forever for you to finally lift yourself up to your feet, and you tiredly stumbled towards the old studio. The pocket knife was still held in front of you in defence as you hobbled forwards, sloppily avoiding the shards of glass littering the ground in front of the studio. You managed to step over the jagged hole and leaned against one of the walls of the small studio, breathing heavy and shaky.

"Red Robin?" You tried to whisper, but it instead turned out as an unintelligible croak. You slowly stumbled further into the small space, squinting to see in the dark.

A small noise suddenly came from one of the corners of the room. You swallowed tightly, holding the knife out in front of you with a shaky arm. Who knew what the witch had done to him. Turned him into some beast? Made him rabid with weird magic? Bloodthirsty and insane?

The noise became clearer as you stepped forward, and you gradually realised that it was a... whimper. A small, scared whimper. You made a few more steps and stopped at the silhouette in the corner. And it wasn't until your eyes adjusted to the dark did you gape in shock and stumble back against the wall.

There was a tiny dark-haired kid sitting among the glass, buried under the red costume which a literal minute ago stuck to his very-grown-up-body like second skin. A black cowl was hanging off the back of his head, stuck to the black strands of hair. His big blue eyes peered at you in dazed confusion, before they clouded over and he dropped unconscious.  
  
You stared at him for a while from your position against the wall, before lowering the pocket knife, and cursing whatever almighty deity in charge of fate was currently having the time of their life.  
  
"Only in fucking Gotham."

 

* * *

 

You almost expected something else to go terribly wrong that night. Maybe a mugging from a gun-wielding criminal. Or getting captured by some drunk gang members. Maybe even meeting the Joker and getting your head blown off. But surprisingly, your trip to your car went uneventfully smooth, though you still looked back every ten seconds, watching out for any more purple rays of magic or any other sort of danger.

When you finally did get to your car, you clambered in, knees rubbing against the worn out leather of the seat as you stretched over and carefully placed the little bundle on the passenger seat. You then quickly settled yourself into the driver's seat and locked all the doors. Only then did you allow yourself to relax a little bit, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion.

"Jesus Christ," you chuckled humourlessly. "What the fuck did I just do?"

You took a peek at the bundle in the opposite seat, watching the unconscious boy tightly wrapped in your coat, unaware of everything happening around him. He looked so small and fragile, and if you had to put an age, you would guess that he was around five? Six?

You knew it was such a stupid idea. Maybe one of his crime fighting buddies would receive his distress message and come to take him to safety and proper care. But you couldn't be sure how long that would take, judging by how hard it was for Red Robin to try and reach out with his top level gadgets. And you couldn't just leave him there. Because no matter how skilled he was before, right now he was a tiny injured boy who definitely wouldn't be able to fend for himself and definitely wouldn't like waking up alone in a creepy studio in a derelict alley.

You tossed your work bag into the back seat, eyeing the black cowl and red suit peeking out from the edge of the bag. It had felt wrong to leave all the belongings of Red Robin there in the studio and just take the child back with you. So you had quickly stuffed the costume and cowl into your bag, along with the fancy utility belt and boots. It had taken even longer to figure out how to shorten the bo staff to a size acceptable enough to hide from view, before squeezing that in and escaping the area with the child-ified Red Robin in your arms.

Once you finished taking deep breaths and clearing your mind, you started up the engine, pausing to quickly strap the seat belt over the little kid before quickly driving away. You were desperate to reach the comforts of your home, and the only thing stopping you from speeding drastically over the limit was the presence of the tiny child in the same car as you. So you controlled yourself, stopping at every red light, driving at the correct speed, using the correct roads, despite the jumpy feeling of paranoia eating away at your brain, trying to convince that something would catch up to you if you drove too slow or even stopped for a single second.

But you managed to reach the apartment complex safely, and it only took five minutes for you to speedily park, grab your bag with one arm, scoop up the kid wrapped in your coat in the other arm, lock the car, scramble into the lift, run out of the lift when it reached your floor, stab your key into the lock, stumble into your apartment, lock the door, carefully place the kid on the sofa, and then finally _finally_ collapse onto the floor with a broken sob.

You released the pent up stress and panic you had been feeling over the past who-knew-what, releasing the dam in a flow of emotions and tears. What little adrenaline you then had was now completely gone, leaving you utterly exhausted and feeling dead. And even after that you just stayed there in that fetal position, knees brought up to your chest and face buried into your body. You didn't know how long, but you just stayed there, trying to grasp some stability, hope, faith, anything to help you get through this.

Finally, you let out a deep exhale and pulled yourself off from the floor. You gingerly collected Red Robin into your arms and took him to your tiny bedroom and looked for some clothes small enough to cover him comfortably. It was awkward dressing a naked six-year-old and in the back of your mind, you couldn't help but internally joke at what a terrible parent you would be. But finally, you managed to get some underwear and stitch some areas so that it would fit the boy, as well as clothing him with an old white t-shirt which just barely reached his ankles. You then tucked him into your bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. And after a quick pause, you instinctively grabbed an old childhood stuffed rabbit, grey and delicate from all those years of throwing it around and using it as a stress ball, and carefully tucked it with the little Red Robin.

"For comfort," you reassured yourself. "So that he wouldn't feel as scared."

But god knows you probably needed it more.

And with that, you left the room, leaving the bedroom door slightly open and going to the hall. Still in your work clothes, without bothering to eat dinner or brush your teeth, you collapsed onto the sofa and let exhaustion embrace you whole.

 

* * *

 

It was the blinding sunlight filtering through the window which rudely woke you up. You automatically scrunched up your face and tiredly brought your arm up to shield your face.

"For fuck's sake," you hissed in irritation, shifting to your other side. Your entire body felt like lead, and all you wanted to do was to keep sleeping. You never would have accepted the request to work overtime last night if you had known that it would tire you out this much.

But the small thump that came from the direction of the bedroom kick-started the gears in your brain, and you suddenly sat up wide awake as you realised that it wasn't the extra paperwork which had tired you out, but the events which happened _afterwards_. Unintentionally getting caught up in a fight between a costumed vigilante and a witch, seeing said costumed vigilante get shot with an age regression spell, smuggling the tiny body of the vigilante back to your apartment, tucking the little vigilante into your bed...

"Shit shit shit-" You clumsily rolled off the sofa and raced to the bedroom, trying to adjust your crumpled dress shirt and blow the hair out of your face. You paused when you reached the door of the bedroom, and slowly peeked through the small opening.

From your position, you could see the bedsheets unmade and crumpled. The pillow had the compression made from a little head, but the blanket was slightly thrown off at the side to reveal nobody occupying the bed.

You pushed open the door and walked in, throwing the rest of the covers off the bed to see if Red Robin was hidden there. You then searched the closet, cupboards and other hiding places which he could be in. You even went as far as to rush to the window to see if he had stupidly climbed through there, and sighed in relief when you found it still locked.

"Kid?" You called out softly, waiting for a reply. "Are you here?"

There was no response, and with a frustrated curse, you went to leave the bedroom to see if he was somewhere else around the small apartment. But just as you were about to exit, you heard a small scuffle and an almost impossible to hear sniffle coming from under the bed.

 _'Of course!'_ You internally scolded yourself. _'Why on earth didn't I check under the bed?'_

Slowly, you lowered yourself to your knees and elbows and peeked under the bed. It was dark and hard to see with all the boxes of books stashed there, but you could make out a tiny figure hiding behind one of the boxes, what little light there was in the room reflecting off of his blue eyes. You even made out the old stuffed rabbit tightly clutched in his small hands. It was almost... adorable.

"Hey, kid," you called out gently. "Why don't you come out of there? It's really dusty and you could get sick."

At your voice, you saw his body shrink into itself in tension. Red Robin turned his head to cautiously peek at you, looking like he was ready to bolt.

"I won't hurt you," you continued. "I just wanted to know if you would like breakfast. I have cereal and toast. Or I could make you pancakes and eggs if you want."

The child bit his lip as if ready to refuse, before a grumbling sound from his belly interrupted the silence in the room. You couldn't help the snort that escaped your nose, and had to slap a hand to your mouth when you saw the kid grow red in embarrassment and scrunch up his nose.

"Your stomach doesn't seem to want to wait," you sung playfully. "Come on, my kitchen is much better than your dusty hiding place. Well, only a little."

You slowly stood back up and dusted your trousers, before turning around to open the curtains and flood the bedroom with sunlight.

"You can come out whenever you want," you said to the hidden boy. "I'll be in the kitchen."

And with that you left the bedroom, leaving the door wide ajar. You quickly brushed your teeth and washed your face to get rid of the last remnants of sleep, then headed to the kitchen. You swiftly took out the ingredients and equipment from the cupboards. It wasn't until fifteen minutes later when the lovely smell of pancakes wafted across the whole apartment that you heard the little pitter patter of footsteps reaching your ears, only slowing down hesitantly when it arrived at the kitchen. Turning around to put the last pancake onto the plate, you caught sight of Red Robin hiding behind one of the chairs at the table, still clutching the toy rabbit.

"Sit." You patted the table in encouragement and put a plate of two pancakes and fried egg in front of the boy. He looked at the food in childlike wonder, before quietly but eagerly climbing up onto a seat.

You grabbed your own plate of pancakes and sat down on the opposite seat, busying yourself with buttering them and adding some blueberries and bananas. But you kept some attention on the little boy, mildly surprised at how well he held his knife and fork.

"You can use a knife and fork really well," you commented. "Did your parents teach you how to use them?"

Red Robin's little cheeks grew red at the praise, but he shook his head.

"Did someone else teach you?" You slowly prodded on, hoping to get some idea of a guardian you could return him to. But he just shook his head again and carried on eating.

You furrowed your eyebrows in thought for a little while, before daring to ask one more question. "Did... did you teach yourself?"

It was then that Red Robin nodded, casually chewing his food. He acted as if it wasn't some magnificent feat, unlike the many other children you had met before in your life who would be filled with pride if they were in his position. Maybe he had been surrounded by genius toddlers who could do things like cooking pastas, so he didn't think of his skills as big.

Or maybe... there was no one there to give him the recognition of praise.

Your head was filled with rushing thoughts, but you tried to shake it off and cleared your throat.

"That's really clever of you," you said with a smile. "When I was your age I could barely hold a spoon properly."

Red Robin lifted his head in surprise, clearly not expecting you to compliment him on that. He immediately ducked his head to continue eating his pancakes, but you still managed to catch the small shy smile and rosy cheeks.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, to get some idea of who he was and what you should do. But you didn't want to scare him too much, based on how suspicious and cautious he seemed to be. So you just carried on eating your pancakes quietly, pausing once to help the boy cut up some more strawberries.

You obviously had to find out how to return Red Robin to his peers, preferably someone like Batman. You were absolutely clueless when it came to magic spells, and you had no idea whether that witch had done something else other than turning him into a six year old boy. You slowly sipped at your orange juice as you prepared a mental check-list. You should definitely take Red Robin to a clinic to see if he was healthy and not internally self-destructing, then maybe buy some proper clothes instead of continuing to lend him old tops that were full of holes. Maybe research things on magic, and then find out how to reach Batman.

You were brought back to reality when something pulled on the sleeve of your blouse. You looked down to see Red Robin looking up at you and shyly pointing to his empty plate.

"You're done?" And at his nod, you stood up and collected all the plates to wash up. "Would you like some juice?"

You poured some orange juice into a plastic cup and gave it to the boy, then steered him to the sofa and put on some cartoons. Whilst he drank his juice, you washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen counters. Since it was now the weekend, you didn't have to go into work so you could fully focus on the little vigilante.

it wasn't until you finally finished and turned to the living area that you realised that the TV was no longer showing the light-hearted animated sea creatures and animals, but instead showing scenes of a crime scene in front of a bank, with crowds of reporters shouting for interviews or talking into their cameras whilst police tried to take order and control.

Red Robin was sitting on the floor right in front of the TV, his cup of orange juice empty and lying in front of him. He was transfixed with the news on the TV, big blue eyes wide with fascination and curiosity.

"The bank robbers were apprehended by the Batman and Robin, claim witnesses and hostages," spoke the reporter on the screen. "They will now be taken to be arrested and will be put on trial, with some facing life sentences for multiple offences of assault and homicide."

You stood awkwardly beside the sofa, not knowing what to do. Little kids weren't supposed to see these things, right? It would traumatise them, which would be pretty bad. You took another look at Red Robin. He didn't even seem to be bothered by the gruesome scenes of blood and the bruised up faces of the criminals. In fact, he didn't look even one bit affected. Instead his expression was still one of fascination as he intently listened to the talking reporter. Maybe there was still a bit of the grown-up Red Robin inside him.

When the news went back to the studio, you reached for the remote and switched off the TV.

"You shouldn't be sitting so close to the TV, you know," you chided as Red Robin looked in surprise and turned his head to see you. "It's really bad for your eyesight."

He blinked a couple of times, before hunching into himself in shame.

"No, no, no," you hurriedly said when you saw his face scrunch in emotion. "I'm not angry, you did nothing wrong! I'm just worried that you'll hurt your eyes. I don't want you to get hurt!"

He looked so shocked to see that you were _worried_ , that you had to wonder just how unloving his childhood was. God, did his parents even care about him?

"How about you take a bath?" You gently asked, sitting down cross-legged beside him. "After that, maybe we can watch a detective show."

So maybe his childhood wasn't as unusual as you thought, because this time his face scrunched in disgust when he heard "bath".

You chuckled and pulled him up. "Come on, no excuses. You're taking a bath right now, and brushing your teeth."

Red Robin stuck his tongue out at you in resistance, but he still let you pick him up and carry him to the bathroom with a smile. You filled the bathtub and added some bubbles, even taking out the rubber ducks which had been lying in your cabinet for months. The little boy looked at the bubbly water in wonder, and you couldn't help but grin.

"You ever had a bubble bath before?" You asked. Red Robin looked at you with wide eyes and shook his head.

"Then you have been missing out on some very important fun. Come on."

You helped take off his clothes and placed him into the warm water. Red Robin gasped in awe as he cupped some bubbles in his palm, and lifted it up for you to see.

"Yeah, aren't they pretty?" You laughed as he tried to pick up as many bubbles as he can in his hand, then accidentally got soapy water into his mouth, which made him immediately scrunch his face in disgust.

You watched him play with the rubber ducks, lost in his own little world as you helped wash him up and apply shampoo. And as you playfully flicked water into the little boy's face, and he squirted water at you with his rubber duck, you let yourself believe that maybe, _just maybe_ , you would be able to sort this out.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry! I never meant for this chapter to be four months late. I had a massive case of writer's block, not to mention sixth form and teenage angst is kicking my ass.
> 
> Despite the late update, I hope you enjoy this chapter ;) sorry if it feels rushed, I honestly couldn't think of a way to end this chapter.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"For the last time," came the voice of Barbara Gordon, _Oracle_ , through the Batcomputer. "Tim's trackers are completely offline, just like everyone else's. I can't find him."

Dick Grayson ran a hand through his hair (Was he losing hair? He swore there was more hair to run his hand through a week ago) in frustration, letting out a groan. "And you're absolutely sure there's no way to find out what might have happened to him?"

"All the CCTV cameras within the five-mile-radius Tim was in disconnected the moment he faced the Sorceress. They didn't come back on until about an hour later. And by then there was no sign of him. I checked every bit of footage in the whole city, I even ran facial scan. It's like he fell of the map, Dick."

"One hour. Plenty of time for who-knows-what to happen," whispered Dick. "She disconnected the cameras, and then managed to switch off the trackers and any lines of communications. Then she did something to Tim. But what?"

"Whatever she did, it must've been something to do with magic." The Oracle symbol which dominated the screen dissolved away, before being replaced by a visual of Barbara, her hair tied back and a mug of coffee lying on the arm of her wheelchair. "I'm guessing it must have destroyed all the technical equipment on Tim's uniform if the magic hit him. That's probably why we can't trace any of the trackers or gadgets on him."

"Shit." Dick could feel the beginnings of a tidal wave of panic start to take over him. The one time Bruce had to leave Gotham for business matters in _China_ was the same time an Amazonian sorceress coincidentally decided to visit Gotham and kidnap Tim in the process. God, he should have stayed in Bludhaven instead of offering to wear the Batman mantle for a few nights.

"What should we do then?" He sighed.

Barbara lightly tapped the arm of her wheelchair in thought. Dick could almost hear the gears in her brilliant mind turning, thinking of dozens of solutions and plans.

"I'll start making some alternate programs and methods to track Red Robin. Meanwhile, you and Robin should do some groundwork, see if there's been any sightings of Red Robin from the Gotham public. I could try and contact Red Hood, see if he can do the same with the Gotham underworld."

"Jason's disappeared with the Outlaws," commented Dick. "I don't think we can track him down and ask for his help in time."

Barbara sighed. "That's a shame. I'll try using some of my informants. They won't be as much help but hopefully something useful will come. Cass and Steph are still in Brazil?"

"Still working with uncovering that sex-trafficking ring. We'll let them know of the situation but they won't be able to abandon the mission."

"Okay then. We'll do with what we have for now. I'll contact you straight away if anything new comes up." And with that the screen dissolved away to bring back the desktop of the Batcomputer.

Footsteps behind him alerted Dick to the presence of Alfred, who climbed down the stairs into the cave and settled down a plate of food on the table.

"You should eat, Master Richard," he said and gestured to the tray. "You've missed dinner and breakfast."

"Food doesn't matter. Not after I find Tim, Alfie."

"Food does indeed matter when it's the thing that will give you the energy to find Master Tim."

Damn Alfred and his wisdom.

Dick sighed and fell back into his chair, grabbing the coffee and a piece of toast. Alfred busied himself with cleaning some bits of the cave. For a while there was a comfortable silence, with both individuals wallowing in their own thoughts. Dick was still in the middle of his musings when Alfred's voice brought him back to reality.

"We will find him, Dick. Master Tim has been gone for longer periods in the past."

Dick swivelled his chair around to look at Alfred, who was looking at him with compassion. "I know Alfie, but this is different. If we do find him, will he still be the Tim we know?"

His gaze flickered over to the middle of the cave, and Alfred didn't need to follow his eyes to know where he was looking. The cylinder holding Jason's Robin suit was still in the cave, its presence a never-ending reminder of the dangers of the family's chosen path. It gave some the memories of a once happy teenager, now a distant homicidal anti-hero. And it gave another the reminder of his greatest failure.

"We lost one brother once," whispered Dick. "I can't lose another."

 

* * *

 

You were officially going to be broke.

But the temptation to buy the whole stock of clothes in the kid's section was too big, and you internally screeched in devastation when you added up the total cost of the clothes already in the shopping trolley. To be fair, it wasn't your fault that all the tiny shirts and shorts on the racks were so _damn cute_.

Mini Robin, on the other hand, didn't seem to be as invested in the quest for clothes as you were. He was wearing the jumper, shorts and shoes that you had quickly bought at the start of the trip and gotten him to change into (after all, parading a child wearing only a ragged oversized t-shirt would raise a lot of concern and possible calls to child services) and was invested with eating a chocolate bar whilst playing with some novelty toy batarangs you had also bought.

"Hey... you know what?" He looked up at the sound of your voice as you turned to him with a surprised expression. "I don't even know your name."

Red Robin tilted his small head in thought and nodded in agreement. You carried on looking at him, silently prodding him on but he just looked back at you in confusion.

"Well, what is it?" You finally pushed out. Knowing his name would be crucial in finding out if there was anyone looking for him. You were well aware that that would mean knowing his secret identity, but in this kind of situation, privacy had no welcome.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Red Robin tried again, but all that passed out was air. Both of you were speechless. He literally couldn't say a word, and you were too shocked to even a make a sound.

"Oh... okay... you can't talk," you stuttered out. Red Robin looked shocked with the loss of his voice and you quickly tried to calm him down before he started crying.

"That's fine," you babbled out. "It's probably some sort of side effect from that magic spell. But maybe it'll wear off. Don't you worry about it."

The little boy soon managed to calm down and went back to playing with his toys half-heartedly whilst you pushed the trolley down the aisle, millions of thoughts rushing through your mind. What were you supposed to do now? It was going to be much harder to get information, and who knew what other side effects there could be. You quickly threw in an extra pair of shoes for Red Robin before moving onto the grocery section to shop for food.

It wasn't until half and hour later when the two of you finally left the supermarket and walked outside to your car. You pushed the trolley to the boot and unloaded all the bags, before carrying Red Robin into the car and taking the trolley back to the trolley park.

The next stop was the medical clinic to get Mini Robin a check-up. Going to the hospital was a big no-no since there would be lots of questions regarding relations and everything would go on record. You didn't want the risk of the authorities finding out about what happened to him and taking him away. He was your responsibility, and you had to keep him safe and sound. At least until you returned him to one of Red Robin's allies.

Your destination was a quiet clinic down-town in Gotham. The owner was a doctor who focused on giving healthcare to the less fortunate, including gang members, without any prejudice or questions. Its existence was known only to those who were poor or on the other side of the law, but you had heard of it from a friend back in university, who had used to be part of a gang in his teens and would go to this clinic to get any injuries treated without worrying about the police being called.

You silently thanked said friend for telling you about it as you parked on the side of the street and got out. You helped the little boy out of the car and locked the car, double checking that everything was secure (you were not going to risk your precious car being stolen) before heading down into the direction of the clinic.

The main entrance was situated in an alleyway and didn't even look like a medical clinic. Instead, it looked like a regular mundane building with its peeling paint and tinted windows. You approached the door, feeling Red Robin squeezing your hand and pressing closer to you. You stroked his hair in reassurance before opening the door and going in.

The inside looked surprisingly much different. It was much more of a clinical setting with its white walls and clean furniture. There were doors on the other end of the hall which seemed to look like private waiting rooms, possibly for the more _well-known_ clients. You took Red Robin's hand and walked over to what looked like the reception, where a young lady was filling out some forms. She looked up when you hesitantly walked over and gave you an expectant look.

"May I help you?" Her voice was calm and composed, practised from the many explosive and intimidating encounters she would have had here.

"I was wondering if you offer check-ups for children." You gestured to the boy who was hiding behind your leg.

The women took a look at Red Robin before nodding her head. "We have several homeless children who sometimes come in for medical aid, so it's all quite normal. Is it urgent?"

"Yes, I would like it as soon as possible."

"And can I have a brief summary of the circumstances for this check-up?"

You hesitated, wondering what to say. The receptionist took one look and gave a small smile.

"We just need it to understand how serious the problem might be. None of this will be shared to any authorities."

"Well... it's a little... unusual."

She gave you a blank look, as if to say _'try me'_. You let out a deep sigh.

"He... he got hit by a... magic spell." God, that sounded so lame.

The receptionist, on the other hand, only blinked for a second and gave a nod. She didn't even look one bit surprised.

"That does sound like an emergency. Luckily there are no appointments currently so you will only have to wait for a little while. I will contact Dr Thompkins and she will see you as soon as possible. Will that be ok?"

"Yes, that'll be great." You beamed in relief, before thanking her and taking Red Robin with you to take a seat. The clinic was very empty, and you and the little boy were the only clients there. Secretly you were relieved, not wanting to get into any other trouble that could come.

Whilst Red Robin sat on the floor and fiddled with the abacus on the coffee table, you casually flipped through some newspapers. There was a very recent one with a brief paragraph about the witch you had seen last night. Unfortunately there was no information about who she was or what her magic was, though it did talk about how she mostly just destroyed property and gave superficial injuries to several unlucky thugs and drunkards. It seemed like she was just interested in creating chaos. Well it certainly worked.

A door opening broke the silence in the hall, and you turned to the sound to see a woman in her late middle-ages adjusting her lab coat. She looked at you and gave you a warm smile.

"Come on in," she said and gestured to the open door. You took your bag and called to Red Robin, who stood up and followed you into the little room.

Dr Thompkins' office was much more cheerier than the small waiting room outside. There were a couple of colourful paintings on the wall and some pot plants on the tables. A patient's bed was situated on the far end of the office next to a table of medical equipment.

The doctor sat down in her chair behind her desk and gestured for you to sit on the chairs. "I am Dr Leslie Thompkins. I understand that your child was... hit by a magic spell?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, I know it sounds kind of unbelievable."

Thompkins raised an eyebrow in amusement. "On the other hand, it's totally believable. This is Gotham, after all."

How right she was.

"I'm guessing this has something to do with the magician last night?" She asked, grabbing a stethoscope and going to check the little boy's vitals.

"Yep," you sighed. "It was in an alleyway near the abandoned shops. She hit him with this spell and disappeared. I just want to make sure that there's nothing seriously damaged with his body and overall health."

Thompkins hummed as she shined some light into Red Robin's eyes, who was fascinated by what she was doing and gazed curiously at her movements. You found yourself automatically smiling at the perplexed look on his small face.

"What sort of spell was it?" She asked, fiddling with some of the instruments on the table by the bed.

You paused, before opening your mouth. "It was an age regression spell."

Thompkins stopped from her fiddling to look at you with eyebrows raised. "Age regression? You mean, this isn't how he usually is?"

You sighed. "No, doctor. In fact, he's supposed to be a man around my age. The witch did something to him and he... turned into this little boy."

"He de-aged more than _ten years_?"

You nodded, looking at the boy. Said boy wasn't even paying attention to the conversation. His attention was fully on the custom bobblehead of Batman sitting on the desk. He poked it tentatively with a tiny finger and watched the head wobble animatedly, before a silly grin spread across his face and he poked it again and again.

"How long has he been like this exactly?"

You ripped your eyes from Red Robin and turned to Dr Thompkins. "About... twelve hours? Or a little more?"

Dr Thompkins nodded, looking lost in thought. "We'll run some tests using the MRI scanner and see how his internal conditions are functioning. Having a body changed that drastically over a very short period might cause some damage. Has there been any other noticeable changes which could be caused by the magic?"

"He can't talk." You answered. "I only noticed a little while ago."

"Lost voice. Hopefully that might come back. Anything else?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay then, let's go and get the x-rays and MRI scan done for - what's his name?"

Your mind went blank, before you blurted out the first thing which came into your head.

"Robin... his name is Robin."

 

* * *

 

You guided Robin by the shoulders through the door of your apartment as he played with the Batman bobblehead. Dr Thompkins had let him keep it after he had refused to part with it after the scans. He seemed to have an unnatural obsession with Batman and vigilantes, and whilst you knew that it was caused by... his  _other_ self, you told Dr Thompkins that his family were Batman fans and he had inherited their fascination. It explained why his "name" was Robin and she believed it. She seemed to be a trustworthy person, but you didn't want to risk anything.

You took a moment to take a deep breath and let yourself go into thought once you dropped the shopping bags by the wall and locked the door. The whole process of taking MRI scans, x-rays and blood tests had taken over an hour, with another one hour going by to get the results. It was a long time, but you knew it was worth it.

"His iron levels are low, but that can be fixed with vitamins. Other than that, his body is completely healthy." Dr Thompkins had said once she had looked at all the test results. "There doesn't seem to be anything alarming we should be worried about, but keep an eye out just in case. I have... connections with people who have experience in this field, and in most cases the effects usually just wear off. For now, he's a regular child with the mind of a child, so look after him like one. If you have any problems, you can come to me."

A small tug of your shirt brought you away from your thoughts, and you tilted your head down to see Robin looking up at you, the Batman bobblehead in his small fists now replaced with a juice box clutched close to his chest. You laughed lightly at the hesitant expression on his face, as he silently asked for permission with his big eyes.

"Alright, why not. But we already had two juice boxes with your dinner, so I can't see why you would want more."

Robin smiled widely, and you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming wave of fondness as you remembered how scared and vulnerable he had looked last night, his thin body smothered in your old coat. You helped unwrap the straw and puncture it into the box, before handing it to the little boy, who quickly scurried away to switch the tv onto a detective program.

"Don't run with the straw in your mouth!" You automatically called out, watching Robin climb onto the sofa with his legs and turn to the tv. Once you were sure he wasn't going to choke himself with the straw, you relaxed and busied yourself with unpacking your shopping bags, putting all the cans and food into the fridge and cupboards, and folding all of Robin's clothes to put into a little space in your closet. You couldn't help but stroke the tiny shirts and shoes, the memory of Red Robin in the alleyway entering your mind. Of course, you had been too focused at that time on _not_ _dying_ , but you remembered the vigilante's acrobatic moves, his lean body twisting and twirling and dancing around the magician's spell rays. He had seemed to be a little taller than you, but still quite small for a young man.

When you finished putting everything away and walked back out into the living area, your eyes caught the tv screen showing another news report on Batman, this time with a shaky video, obviously taken by a phone, capturing the dark blur of Batman's uniform as he took down some gang members with expert precision, before a batarang flew into the camera and cut off the feed.

You chewed your lip in thought, taking a peek at the sofa to see Robin fully focused on tv, the juice box lying squeezed empty on the coffee table. You grabbed your laptop from your bag and sat down at the kitchen table, before loading up the browser. The search bar appeared, and for a moment, you stared at the screen, fingers mutely hovering above the keys. Despite the fact that they were quite possibly the most famous urban legends in Gotham, you never intentionally searched up Batman and his crime-fighting allies, or even tried to find out more about them. You didn't deny that you were as entranced with superheroes as everyone else, hell some days you liked to look up candid shots of Wonder Woman just to sigh dreamily at the warrior and her godly beauty. But Batman, Robin, Batgirl? To you, they were just some of the silent guardians of Gotham who helped keep the streets as safe as possible. You respected them, supported them, sometimes even prayed to them on the times you had to walk through a cemetery or a shifty alley. But other than that, you never paid any other attention to them. Why would you? You had your own life to cry over, why obsess over someone else who was just trying to do their part for justice?

But now, with a child-ified vigilante eating and drinking in your own apartment, you couldn't resist the curiosity which fuelled your fingers to tap across the keys, spelling out the word "BATMAN" across the search bar. You waited with bated breath as you pressed the enter key, and stared at the loading symbol on the screen.

It turned out that your expectations were a little too high.

There was hardly any concrete information about the Batman, even in the numerous local news reports and articles. Most dated back to the dawn of the Dark Knight's debut, with practically all of them calling the vigilante a 'monster' and a 'new terror in Gotham'. But as you flicked through more and more recent articles, Batman changed from being a 'costumed freak' to a 'a keeper of justice'. You weren't surprised at the lack of clear images of the Batman. After all, he did manage to keep his identity secret through the decades, and removing anything that could jeopardise his identity was sure to be a piece of cake. A lot of the pictures were paintings and fanart, some portraying him as an actual gargoyle with bloody fangs, others choosing to give a much more abstract look to him. Regardless, nearly all of them had the common feature of a towering man with pointed bat ears, and a dark sweeping cape. Looking for him was said to be practically impossible, as he apparently had the power to appear right in the second of danger, only to disappear back into the shadows the next moment.

You clicked back onto the browser page, this time clearing the search engine and typing in "RED ROBIN".

Although, there was still hardly any information available, it was still a little more than Batman's. The first evidence of Red Robin's existence was nearly five years ago; an article titled "NEW SUPER BIRD IN GOTHAM?" with a grainy photo of a dark figure clothed in red and black. The figure was frozen in mid-leap off a tall building, the dark cape billowing out behind them, and the golden bird clasp catching the gleam of the moonlight. You skimmed through the short article, which talked about how the police were tipped by an unknown source to the scene of a giant drugs bust, where the supposedly new vigilante was later momentarily spotted. You scrolled through more websites and articles, even Superhero fan blogs posting conspiracy theories about who the new elite vigilante was. Red Robin didn't get his fame, however, until a year after, when another low quality photo showing him standing next to Batman, Robin, and Nightwing, officially confirmed him as an ally of Batman. And from then on, he entered the top of the Gotham vigilante hierarchy.

You exhaled deeply, glad that you had learnt some new stuff about Red Robin's background, but ultimately disappointed by the lack of information on how to solve your problem. Even typing in things like: "how to find Batman" or "how to undo a magic spell", just brought up websites for sketchy witchcraft practices or psychiatrists.

You furrowed your eyebrows in thought. How were you meant to find Batman? Should you try and visit all the places he was commonly seen? Yeah right, if you wanted a death wish. The most common place he was seen during his era of being a guardian was "Crime Alley", and only lunatics willingly went to that area. Hell, even lounging about on the rooftops with a gigantic sign saying "I HAVE YOUR CHILD-IFIED PARTNER" seemed like a better idea.

"Shit." You let out a humourless chuckle and rubbed your eyes tiredly. You stood up from your chair, stretching your limbs as you walked over to the sofa where Mini Robin was. But when you walked over, you saw the little boy fast asleep, head leaning against the backrest as the TV continued to play. You felt the tips of your mouth curl upwards slightly, as you grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, then carefully scooped your arms under the vigilante's body to lift him up. You awkwardly brought him close to your chest as you walked away to your little bedroom, gently tucking him into the thin covers and once again placing the raggedy toy next to his frame.

You took a moment to watch Mini Robin's sleeping face, his relaxed expression, with no signs of stress or fear. What was it like, feeling like a child again? Without the burden of work, without the stress of paying rent, without the massive weight of student debt? Having a family, playing in the park, watching cartoons. How you wanted to go back to that time of your life. And yet now you couldn't. You were alone, no one to call family in this shit hole of a city, no one to be daring with in the hours of twilight.

With a final sigh, you walked out of the room, taking one last look at Robin.

"You don't deserve being with someone as depressing as me," you whispered to the silent room. "I'll fix this, I promise. I'll get you back to your family."

And with that, you gently shut the door and walked away, ready to drown yourself in $5 wine and bitter memories of melancholy.


End file.
